


This Is How (our walls came down)

by SapphireBlueJiyuu



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, F/M, Leo Fitz - Freeform, Platonic Romance, Skye - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-21
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-02-25 05:36:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2610404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphireBlueJiyuu/pseuds/SapphireBlueJiyuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Boundaries are meant to be crossed... rules are meant to be broken. </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Incident #1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this is a platonic roommates!AU. Each of these are isolated instances. There will be more to come. Please enjoy and let me know what you think and if you would like more.
> 
> A special thank you goes out to [Amy](http://shineyma.tumblr.com/) for looking over the bulk of these chapters for me! Thank you so much sweetie! :D

Eighteen steps.

Between the eighteen steps from her bedroom and his, the floor of their shared apartment was laid with dark cherry oak floors. The plasma TV, the coffee table that sat in front of love seat, the entertainment/book shelf belonged to him. The three floor lamps around the living area, the 3-piece grey colored love seat set, the one plush white rug, and the one vase in the middle of his coffee table belonged to her. Their refrigerator was divided rigidly into an organized, compartmentalized storage unit for their respective foods. There was no dish rack to be found in order to minimize clutter in a shared common space. They held separate bathrooms, which they maintain in pristine condition. Chores around the apartment was placed on a system that was written on the “board.”

The “board” was a white board that hung on the wall just outside of the kitchen. It had the schedule for every chore around the apartment that needed to be done and who would do it. It was a system that had worked for them for nearly six months now and there was no need to fix something that wasn't broken.

Their living arrangement was practical and the boundaries they kept were strictly adhered to, at all times. If one person was having guest over, they were to inform the other of it at least 10-15 minutes ahead of time. If there was a party, the host of it would do the cleaning  _prior_  to sleeping, and the cleaning would not be left for the next morning. They had separate laundry detergents, fabric softener, cleaning supplies, and phone bill. There was no walking in and just stripping off their clothes in the middle of corridor and haphazardly throwing it onto the sofa (which most likely wouldn't have happened anyway, since neither of them are the messy types), no fighting over who’s turn it was to take out the trash or who’s dirty dishes were in the sink. They were polite and impeccably respectful of each other as per their agreement to never cross that invisible line and, in turn, they both had a clean, kind, and friendly housemate to split the rent with.

That all changed the night Grant knocked on Jemma’s bedroom door.

She came to the door in her uni sweater and yoga pants, her dark, honey colored tress were piled up on her head in a messy bun and she had a soft glow on her cheeks. Grant could not think of a moment in those 174 days that they had been living with each other when she had looked more beautiful. And that was the thing with the brilliant Jemma Simmons; she only got more beautiful with each day that passed by.

Just because he ignored it did not make it was any less true.

"Uhm… sorry to bother you but you left this in the washer and I ended up drying it with my load." He stretched out his hand and a familiar face towel came into view, neatly folded in the middle of his palm.

Jemma chuckled nervously, “Oh, thank you. I was looking for that. I’ll be make sure to double check that I got all my stuff next time.”

"Don’t worry about it. It wasn't any trouble." Grant replied sincerely. Smiling awkwardly, he started to step backwards, slowly taking those eighteen steps back towards his room. "Well, good night."

Jemma returned his smile, “Good night.”

* * *

Closing the door, Jemma leaned against the door of her bedroom, and stared down at the towel in her hand. Slowly, she brought the clean cloth to her nose and inhaled deeply.

The scent of his fabric softener and her detergent made her heart race.


	2. Incident #2

Boundaries were erected at the beginning of moving in with each other for a reason; it was to minimize the awkward potential for a relationship between two single, heterosexual individuals. At the time, both of them were not in an emotional state for a relationship, so they broke down the barriers from the very first day; laid out ground rules and a systematic guideline so that they wouldn't get entangled in each others’ romantic lives.

So what if Grant came home and would see some guy kissing her outside their door. He would have to awkwardly clear his throat and then push pass a blushing Jemma who was trying to explain to her date that Grant was “ _just her roommate_ ”.

So what if he would make sure to come and sit on the couch when he knew she was in her room singing with her headphones on because she would sometimes sing off-key and he would think it was the most adorable thing in the world.

So what if he would wake up late and see breakfast wrapped on the dining table for him with a little green post-it note from her saying “ _Noticed that you weren't awake yet and since I made too much, I thought I would share. Have a nice day. - Jemma_ " and he would end up smiling randomly throughout the day. When someone asked why he was so happy, he would simply glare at them until they walked away. 

So what if he would wake up in the middle of the night and see that she had fallen asleep on the couch with yet another medical journal sprawled across her lap, shivering against the cool leather upholstery. And against better reasoning, he would get the urge to pick her up into his arms and take her into her room and lie next to her so that she could be warm by his side. But instead he walks to the kitchen, grabs his glass of water and refuses to look at her as he stalks back to his room.

So what if he would walk out of the shower and see her baking in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up her lean arms, hands coated in flour as she kneaded at the dough. And then she would use her arm to push back her hair that came loose from her hair tie and she gets a small streak of flour across her forehead and he gets an undying need to close the distance between them, tilt her chin up (because she was ridiculously tiny!), and kiss away the flour from her skin.

And never  _once_  did it look as though she was at all affected by him.

The shocker came one night when she walked in (with the straps of her heels dangling from her fingers and glassy look across her eyes) and wobbles up to him - who was writing up next week’s schedule on the ‘board’ - before she drags him down by the nape of his neck and sloppily kisses him. His heart was pounding in his chest as he promptly drops the dry erase marker and wraps her up in his arms, deepening the kiss, loving the feel of her body pressed against his.

All too soon she pulls back giggling before she slurred sleepily, “Always wondered what that would be like…”

That was when he registers that she was drunk beyond better judgment.

So, instead of pulling her back into his arms, like he desperately wanted to, he promptly turned her around and guided her back into her room and somehow even fended her off when she wanted to pull him down into her bed with her. She was asleep before he even closed the door behind him.

And even as he laid in his bed, wide awake with the memory of her lips branded on his skin, he knew she wouldn't remember it in the morning and instead got up and walked into the dining area, searching for a plastic bag. 

* * *

Jemma awoke the next morning and was very aware of what she did the previous night. She nearly cried in embarrassment as she ran her fingers over her lips, distinctly recalling how lovely a kisser he was. 

How will she ever face him again?

Pulling herself out of bed, she grabbed her towel and headed to the shower praying that he had left for the day. As she opened the door to her room, a soft thud against the wood caught her attention.

She looked down and saw a plastic grocery bag from the supermarket Jemma had often seen Grant frequent. Inside was a bottle of aspirin, a bottle of water and a note that read “ _Noticed you came home drunk last night. Please eat and hydrate yourself. - Grant_ ”. 

She would not admit to herself that she blushed when she read the word  _home._


	3. Incident #3

The fire alarm went off a little after 4 in the morning, dragging both Grant and Jemma out of the comforts of their beds.

That is Grant and a person under a very thick comforter.

Jemma, unappreciative of the blaring siren that roused her out of a peaceful night of sleep, refused to part ways with her thick throw in the apartment while they froze their butts outside in the winter morning and thus wrapped herself up in it like a human burrito and trudged down the stairs.

Grant thought fondly how cute she looked when he tugged at one corner of it and she poked her head out from top, her hair was a tangled mess and still she looked irresistible. Yet, resist her adorable sleepy form he did as he gestured to the door, “Watch your step.”

She thanked him sleepily as they followed the crowd from their floor, shuffle down the stairs, making sure her blanket wasn’t dragging against the dirty linoleum floor.

Once they had fought the crowds and made it the sidewalk, Grant realized just how cold it was. He gazed up at gray sky and saw the clouds gather over head before he took a great deep breath.

_It’s going to snow soon._  he thought to himself. He could smell it in the air. And it was stuck outside, for who knows how long, in a simple t-shirt and wool pajama bottoms. He tried to shove his hands into his pants, but realizes it one of the ones that didn’t have any pockets and resolves to crossing his arms and glaring at the building.

"Do you want to share?"

Grant turned to see his roommate holding up each end of her blanket in his direction. “I know it’s not much but maybe we can both stay warm until they call us in.”

Deep down, Grant knew he should just say no. He’s been a whole heck of a lot colder during his winter training for high school water polo. He’s been camping up in the mountains when it was snowing. He’s had to walk home in the freezing rain when he missed the bus. This was nothing. 

There was a rule. They both laid it out the first week they moved in. This would be inappropriate. It would put even more of a strain on his control of his emotions. He should just turn her down nicely and turn back to his glaring and be done with it. 

The moment the wind picked up, the words just tumbled out of his mouth. “Sure. Thanks.” 

_Good job brain._  Grant groused to himself and was about to continue berating himself for being so weak, he looked down to see her beamed up at him as she offered one side of the thick throw. He offered a weak smile in return, but that didn’t seem to deter her one bit as she shuffled closer to him as he threw the blanket over his shoulder. 

Immediately noticing the problem, Grant looked down and saw that even though their backs are now warm, the throw was far too small to blanket the both of them horizontally. 

Jemma began to shiver as another gust of a strong winter gale hit the crowd, ”Here… let me try something.” Grant took both ends of the blanket and lifted it off of them. Jemma turned to face him and saw him stretch out his arms to her. For a moment, she was just stood there, statuesque, staring at him before she bowed her head and folded her arms across herself and shifted forward. When she was close enough to him, he enveloped her in his arms, wrapping the blanket around both of them. She stiffened at first, trying not to touch him as much as possible - most likely to be polite - but eventually, as the coldness seeped from both of them, they began to relax against each other. Through the thinness of his shirt, he could feel her cold cheek pressed against his chest and prayed that she couldn’t hear his heart racing. He tried steadied his breathing, counting backwards from a thousand in his head until he was sure his heart rate was back to normal.

Looking down, Grant noticed that she hadn’t moved at all since he took her in his arms and wondered if she had fallen asleep. “Warm yet?”

She didn’t look up at him but nodded against his shirt and mumbled, “Quite.”


	4. Incident #4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this addition of the platonic roommates!AU is not as light as the previous ones. I feel the need to put a trigger warning that there is a **major character death** in this addition. So, if you don’t want to read about the fallout of said death, then maybe wait for the next one to read, k?

She was crying into the darkness of her room hoping that he wouldn't hear her because she’s not ready to face anyone at that moment. She wants to text Skye but she knew she’d be asleep by now and doesn't want to wake her.

So instead she lies back onto her bed and stares up at the white ceiling while flashes of memories come back to her, like a DVD that’s all scratched up and skips in the player.

And each time she would remember his smile or the feel of his hand in hers or the way the sun would look bouncing off his curls, she would feel a tear trickle from the corners of her eyes and onto her pillow. She tries to focus on her breathing and hope that the world would just swallow her up into a void of nothingness. So that she wouldn't have to feel this way anymore. So that the pain would stop. 

A soft rapt on her door makes her jump. It was Grant, obviously. She tried to be as still as possible, hoping that he would just go away. She wasn’t ready to talk about this with anyone, especially not Grant. He wouldn't understand. There was no way he would understand the pain she was going though and she wasn’t in the mood to explain herself. She wanted to be alone with her thoughts, and her scratched-up, skipped memories, and the darkness.

Instead of going away like a normal person though, he cleared his throat and spoke, “Jemma? You okay in there?”

She was thinking about just pretending she was asleep but she couldn't breath, sleeping like that, and ended up coughing. Cursing herself for not being able to hold her breath for an infinite amount of time, Jemma shifted in her bed before she steadied her breathing, “Yes. I’m fine.” She cursed herself again when her voice cracked, “I’m fine.” She repeated harshly. 

There was silence from behind the door gave her hope that he was actually buying it. Finally, he resigned to saying, “Okay. If you need anything… I’m just down the hall.”

She did not sleep that night and thanked the heavens that the next day was a Saturday or else she would have had to call in sick to work.   
  


* * *

 

Grant found out about it week later. 

He was kind enough not to bring it up because she was pretty sure she was still not ready to talk about it. 

When she came home to a bouquet of flowers and a condolence card, she promptly threw out the card in her room and walked across the way to Mrs. Hillburg’s apartment and gave her the flowers. 

Yep, she was definitely not ready to talk about it.

* * *

 

She walked in on him sweeping the living area. 

"Hey." he said looking up when he heard the door shut. 

She should have just walked to her room and lock herself there until she had to eat or go to work as she had been doing for the past two months.

But instead, she walks up to him and stops a foot away from where he was trying to get that one spot in the gap between the book shelf and the love-seat. He looks up at her and was about to ask her how her day was but held his tongue when he saw the look on her face.

He politely waited for her to say something but instead, she steps forward and wraps her arms around his middle with him. 

Grant immediately drops the handle of his swifter duster, allowing it to bounce against the wall before tipping over onto the floor as he envelopes her in his embrace (just like he had after the fire alarm had them huddling outside for warmth), not even caring when she soaks his shirt with her tears. They stay like that for awhile and it was him who finally breaks the silence. 

"Did you watch that new documentary about bears yet?"

Jemma shook her head against his chest.

"It’s kinda boring but you do get Morgan Freeman narrating it."

She was silent for a beat before sniffing, “God discussing the awesomeness of nature? Talk about tooting your own horn.”

Jemma relishes in the feel of Grant’s chuckle as it reverberates in his chest. 

He untangles himself from her and puts the swifter duster away. She says she’s going to go make popcorn and disappears around the corner into the kitchen. A few minutes later, they settle down on the love-seat and put the DVD into the player. She wondered if he would think her too bold if she rested her head on his shoulder but then realized she didn't really care and did it anyway as the scenic view of mountains calm her down. She smiled inwardly as he didn’t make a move to pull away. 

"I never thanked you for the flowers."

Grant didn't take his eyes from the scene when he answered, “It’s okay. Did you read the card?”

Jemma grimaced, “No…”

"Good. I hate condolence cards." He admits as he grabbed a handful of popcorn.

She smiled. “Me too.” 

They were quiet for a good while after that, When the baby cubs started playing with each other and learning to hunt, Jemma whispered, “I should have died with him in that car crash.”

Grant turned to her then. “Jemma-“

"I was suppose to be in that car with him. And the only reason I wasn't was because I was still mad at him about a stupid, irrelevant argument we had the previous week. I said I would meet him at the coffee shop. That he didn't have to drive me…" She hiccuped. "I knew something was off after I was waiting there for over an hour and I kept calling him but he wasn't answering. When I got the call…"

"You can’t blame yourself for what happened." Grant murmured.

"No… but I can wish that I had died along side him… so that he wouldn't have left me here alone." She angrily wiped the tears that keep dripping down her cheek. She wanted to to throw a tantrum and punch a wall and curse to the heavens and scream and cry and scream some more… but instead she watched as the mother bear showed her cubs which berries to eat. 

"But you’re not alone."

Jemma turned her skeptical gaze up at Grant who had turned his attention back to the television screen. “You’re only alone if you allow yourself to be.” 

He didn't say anything else after that, as though he had said his piece and now his undivided attention was back on the documentary. She watched him as he ate popcorn after popcorn before she turned back to the movie and her heart felt as though a mountain had been lifted off her chest. The dark pit of sadness was still there but at least it didn't feel like it was trying to crush her any longer. 

She didn't feel like her normal self, but there was a light now. It looked like a small speck in the darkness; like a distant star, millions and millions of light-years away. It was small, barely visible at all… but it was there.

Maybe she really just needed to give herself time to heal. Maybe it was the documentary (which wasn't nearly as boring as Grant made it out to be). Maybe all she needed was a friend… to tell her that loosing her best friend wasn't her fault. Deep down though, she wants to believe she had Grant to thank for just holding her and reminding her that she didn't have to face all of it by herself. That she could make her own light in the pit of darkness… if only she reached out for the switch.  


	5. Incident #5

After getting in late the previous night from a tedious mission in Springfield, Grant had acquired a grand total of 2 hours of sleep in the last 50 hours and was just woken up by a phone call from HQ with a new case.

Exhausted beyond comprehension, he shuffled into the kitchen to brew a fresh pot of coffee only to find it had already been made… and that there was a man sitting in  _his_  bar stool at the kitchen counter, reading  _his_  paper. 

Sensing a presence staring at him, the man in question looked up and offered Grant a cheeky smile. “Morning. I hope you don’t mind, I made the coffee. Paper? I only read the funnies anyway.”

Grant, still reeling from the fact that he actually walked right past a fully grown man sitting in plain sight without so much as flinching, simply stared blankly at the man, furrowing his eyebrows in deep concentration.  _How did this man get in the apartment? Is Jemma safe? Is he awake enough to reach to discreetly for his gun that he had stashed in the bowl of fruit? Was this man a burglar… who was polite enough to make him coffee and share the paper?_  

He was tempted to call in sick because he  _seriously_ needed to go back to bed.

"I’m sorry, who are you?" he asked as his fingers inched towards the kitchen knife.

Before the other man could answer, Jemma’s bedroom door opened to reveal a very disheveled scientist. ”Ah, Grant! I see you’ve met Billy.” In the hazy fog of exhaustion, Jemma’s voice rang out like a clear bell.

"Charlie," the man corrected.

"Right, Charlie. Sorry." Jemma winced. 

"Yeah…" Grant replied awkwardly looking between the two. Jemma was still in her pajamas and Grant wondered why she wasn’t getting ready for work. 

"Charlie was just leaving anyway, weren’t you, Charlie?" Jemma insisted as not so subtly gestured for the man to leave, pointing towards the door with her head. Grant could hardly keep himself from rolling his eyes as Charlie rose from the stool and was about to lean forward to kiss Jemma goodbye when she turned her head and he ended up with a mouthful of her hair. They awkwardly apologized to each other before he waved to Grant and opened the door to the closet. A moment later he realized his mistake and exited the front door.  

Silence permeated the apartment as Jemma continued to prepare her breakfast and left Grant just staring at the door. 

"Hmph," was all Grant said as he turned back to the pot of coffee and poured him a canteen full. 

Jemma placed the slices of bread into the toaster oven before she turned on him. “Look, I know he’s not the brightest bulb in the tool shed but I-“

"Stop."

Jemma looked up at Grant as he sliced his bagel and saran wrapped it. He turned to see her staring and continued, “You don’t have to explain anything to me. You’re an adult. I am not your guardian or your… _whatever_. I don’t care to know whatever it is that you do when I am out of town. That’s your business and I respect that privacy.”

If it wasn’t for his sincere tone, Jemma would have thought his words to be harsh. But Grant wasn’t like that. He had never had an issue with her dating guys before so why was it bothering her so much that he had a run-in with Harry -  _Charlie!_ \- who was just some guy she had no intention of ringing again. 

Jemma didn’t get a chance to reply because right then, the ding of the toaster diverted her attention and by the time she turned back, Grant softly closed the front door. 

"Welcome home…" She murmured to the empty apartment. The chime on her phone told her a text message came in and when she opened it she couldn’t even bring herself to smile at the text message from Skye wishing her a happy birthday. 


	6. Incident #6

Grant walked in to the apartment with a bag of take-out in hand to hear the water running in the shower from Jemma’s bathroom. After a long day at the training center, all he wanted to do was eat while catching the 8 o’clock news, shower, and sleep. 

Just as he placed his food on the dining table, 3 things happened seemingly at once: a large crash from outside instinctively made him reach for his gun, the lights went out plunging him into darkness, and there was a shriek followed by a heavy thud and a muffled curse from the bathroom. 

"Jemma?"

"I’m fine…" There was more to the sentence but he couldn’t hear it from behind the door. 

Giving his eyes a minute to adjust to the darkness, he holstered his gun as he briskly strode across the living area and into his bedroom. Pulling out a set of binoculars and a hand-held flashlight from his go-bag underneath his bed, the specialist shuffled to inspect the loud noise from the balcony. From his vantage point, he saw a large truck had careened into the side of the apartment complex and must have took out the fuse box. The driver looked to be shaken up a bit but not too badly injured as he was able to climb down from the driver seat with little ease. No doubt 9-1-1 calls were flooding the helpline; there was no need for him to add to the chaos.

Satisfied with knowing the cause of the power outage and the sight of an ambulance coming down their street, he stepped back in to see Jemma come out from the restroom in a sweatshirt and yoga pants.

"What happened?" She asked frantically.

"Trucker must have wanted to get home before the storm rolled in. Too bad he still lost control of the vehicle and crashed into the south-east corner of the building, right where the fuse boxes are located. Units should be on their way any minute now but I doubt we’ll get the electricity back anytime soon."

Even in the dark, the worry etched on her face was apparent. “Oh no. Is the driver alright? Is anyone else hurt? Maybe I should go down and see if anyone needs medical attention.”

Grant shook his head as he closed the balcony door, making sure it was locked before he assured her, “No need. EMT must have been in the area, just arrived. Besides, I saw the driver moving about; he should be alright.”  

"Oh… okay then." Jemma gave a sigh before muttering, "Well, I suppose I’m having cereal for dinner since I can’t cook anything," eyeing their very electric stove with a pout.

Grant hesitated for only a moment before he offered, “I just bought plenty of take-out from the new Chinese place up the street. I don’t mind sharing.” 

The young scientist didn’t say anything at first and Grant was about to retract his offer when she shyly smiled at him. “I have a few pillar candles as well as some votives we can use for lighting. That way we don’t use up the battery on that flashlight.”

Nodding once, he tried to push down the giddy feeling at the prospect of having dinner by candle light with her, and ducked back into the kitchen to find the matches. 

She returned with a handful of thick white candles and a few small ones and began to arrange them at the center of the table as he sets the matches down next to her. She smiles up at him in thanks and he pointed the flashlight towards her so that she can strike the first match.

Grant would never consider himself a romantic in any sense of the word - too taciturn for it to ever truly apply to him - but he could fully appreciate the idea that someone looks even more beautiful in candle light. The flare of the match, as she struck it against the emery, lit her face in a way that sparked the glowing embers inside of him. As she brought the small flame to the exposed wicks, he watched in utter rapture at the warm radiance from the candlelight dance across her illuminated skin, his eyes transfixed on her as though she were not lighting a candle but the sun itself. He bathed in her graceful beauty, and wondered - not for the first time - how someone so entrancing could exist.

He had long lost the battle with his heart; the attraction that clawed at his insides could not be tamed any longer. As she tucked her damp hair behind her ear and looked up at him, Grant wiped what he assumes is a dopey look from his face as he busied his hands with the bag of take-out. 

She neatly set the table with the plates that he had brought out with the matches while he popped open the boxes. They sat down to eat just as the first few drops of rain could be heard on the aluminum awning that hung over the balcony and the distant sounds of sirens driving away. 

Just as they dug in, Jemma piped up, “Thank you, by the way.”

Grant, about to bring his fork to his mouth stopped abruptly and looked up at her. 

"For dinner, that is…" she continued, shyly scooping spoonfuls of rice onto her plate. "I’m pretty sure I hadn't said so since you offered. Wouldn't want you to think I was uncouth."

Frankly, Grant didn't think anything of it and had thought it was nice to share a meal with someone. 

"My pleasure." Grant offered curtly as he brought his spoon the rest of the way to his mouth to make sure he didn't continue to say anything stupid. 

"Do you take pleasure in doing things, Grant?" Jemma asked teasingly.

For a moment, Grant froze at the way his name sounded in her timbre before he looked up. He wasn't sure if it was the delicious food or the mood lighting or the company, but his eyes twinkled in mischief before he allowed himself to murmur cryptically, “Wouldn't you like to know?” 

The blush that crept up her neck and the flustered look on her face was priceless. 


	7. Incident #7

She walked up to their door just as Grant rounded the corner from his morning run. 

"Good morning."

Grant nodded to her before wordlessly helping her with the large shopping bags. “Morning. You’re starting your Christmas shopping early?” He asked as she turned the key into the apartment. 

"What? No, I usually do my shopping a month in advance. That way I don’t have to deal with the long lines and the crowds. Hence why I do my grocery shopping late at night. Less people, less foot traffic and all that."

He nods before his brows knitted once again in confusion, “So why did you buy so many Christmas decorations if only you and I are going to be seeing it?”

"What? We aren’t going to be the only ones seeing it." Jemma replied as she hung her purse in her room before depositing the rest of her bags on the coffee table and settled on the couch to go through the items. "There will be people at the party."

Grant, bent over to gently place the rest of her bags by her feet, froze and raised a single eyebrow. “What party?”

Jemma blinked up at him. “The holiday party; I told you about it. The potluck thing. You could invite your co-workers if you’d like.”

He was about to ask what day it was when something in the way Jemma said caught him off guard. “Co-workers?” he mumbled.

She hummed in reply as she brought out boxes of decorations and stacked them on the table.

Grant’s eyes narrowed as he stood there and tried to convince himself that it was merely a slip of the tongue. “Co-workers is a strange way to invite someone else’s guest to a party… Usually people would say, ‘You could bring your family and friends.’ Co-workers is almost an afterthought.”

Jemma’s fingers still over a box of Christmas lights before she briskly replied, “Don’t you think you might be putting  _little_  too much stock into how I am simply inviting you and yours to a holiday party? We could even host it together if you’d like.”

She nearly got away with it too.

Her tone was casual enough that it could  _actually_  be all in his head but Grant knew it wasn’t the moment Jemma started to fuss with one of the boxes of ornaments just a little too much.

Also her blatant refusal to make eye contact with him was a dead give away of hers.

"You think I don’t have any friends." Grant said matter-of-factly.

She was looking anywhere but him now and Grant knew he hit the bulls-eye. “What? Pfft, no! Of course, you have  _friends_. Just because I’ve never seen any or heard you talk about them or see you invite any of them over for beer, does not mean they don’t  _exist_.”

"Unbelievable! You think I’m some type of-of…of anti-social workaholic or something?" Grant demanded as he paced the floor. Sure, he doesn’t invite people over but he goes out and whatnot. Grant Ward has a social life, albeit at times against his own will since he gets dragged to most things by his friends. 

Granted, there were other reasons, but he didn’t want to even go down that train of thought.

Jemma looked up at him then, as she tried to defend herself. “Now that is hardly a fair accusation. I did  _not_  say that you were-“

"But it was implied, wasn’t it?" Grant groused. He crossed his arms resolutely across his chest and stated, "You know what? Just to prove you wrong, I will invite my friends."

"I’m sorry, did you say friend _sss_?” Jemma slipped out in shock before clasping a hand over her mouth.

Grant threw his hands up in exasperation as he walked away, not even dignifying that question with a response. 


	8. Incident #8

Jemma looked up when she heard Grant’s door opening and waved him over. “Oh, good afternoon. You’re just in time! Could you come and taste this for me, please?”

His stomach grumbled at the aromatic scent of a home-cooked meal. 

Grant wasn’t much of a cook himself but he could make simple meals like sandwiches and simple stir-fries. But the spread that Jemma had arranged neatly across the counter top, had everything from cookies to freshly made cordon bleu chicken to brightly colored steamed vegetables and baked salmon. 

"Wow, everything looks really good. What do you got there?" pointing at the concoction in her mixing bowl. 

"Ah, this is a new recipe I’m trying for a spicy mayo spread to use in the sandwiches I’m making for the holiday party. I found a new chili pepper at the farmer’s market this morning and wanted to try a bit of it with the cayenne pepper the recipe called for. I figured it would be wise to fix up a small batch first to make sure it tastes alright before I made a huge one the day of."

She plucked a piece of toast from the toaster oven, sliced it in half and piled on a slice of ham, lettuce, tomato, and bacon. On the second slice, she spread a generous amount of the her spicy mayo spread atop the melted cheese and then topped the half sandwich together and handed it to Grant on a small plate.

She watched him carefully as he made a show of inspecting the sandwich before taking a bite. Chewing thoughtfully she was about to cheer in success as he closed his eyes in what looked like bliss when he abruptly stopped chewing. 

Slowly turning his face away, Jemma started to panic as Grant asked from the corner of his mouth, “Why is it so hot?”

Jemma frowned. “The toast shouldn’t be that hot. It was warm at best. And the rest of the ingredients shouldn’t be hot at all. In fact, the mayonnaise should’ve been cold.”

Grant rolled his eyes, as he swallowed roughly, hissing as the heat took over his mouth. “No! Why is it so spicy!” his voice came out hoarse as he looked around for water.

She heaved a sigh of relief; this was something she could answer. “Oh, the burning sensation you are experiencing right now is purely a biological accident of sorts but your body doesn’t think so since the surface protein, TPRV1, in your nociceptive pain system is being tricked into responding to the stimulus activated by the presence of capsaicin.” 

While she was explaining the science of spiciness to Grant, he was briskly shuffled around the kitchen trying to look for bread but she was toasting all of them right now. He then went to look for crackers in the cabinet only to be disappointed once again because he belatedly remembered that he ate all of it yesterday for lunch with his soup. 

"Which is entirely harmless to you because it doesn’t do any type of physical damage but your brain registers it as an excessive heat-like pain-"

Grant grabbed a hold of her shoulders and stared intently into her eyes, ceasing the words flowing from her mouth. She had to force down her blush as he tried to get out what he was trying to convey to her, “Je-ah… Ah cahnt heel mah tong.” 

"I’m sorry, what was that?" Jemma asked trying not to be distracted by the shape of his lips. 

Grabbing his phone from his pocket, he quickly typed what he needed to say and handed her the phone as he strode to the refrigerator for ice. ” _I can’t feel my tongue._ ”

"Oh, well ice water isn’t going to do you much good. The spiciness is oil based. Milk will be a better solution to your problem-"

Before she could finish, Grant lunged for the carton of milk and filled his glass to the brim before chugging it down. Jemma berated herself that this was not the time to be staring at his Adam’s apple, longing to press her lips to the hot skin of his throat and tried to busy her hands with rearranging the cookies in the tin-box. 

When he placed the carton back into the refrigerator and heaved a sigh of content as the spiciness wore off, she bit her lip sheepishly and asked, “So… too much chili, then?”

He nodded weakly and chuckled at the adorable face she was making (which was a cross between being apologetic but also curious), “Yeah. Too much chili.”


	9. Incident #9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How about a little holiday cheer? This was written for the [AoS Exchange](http://aosexchange.tumblr.com/). **Prompt** : “ _Hall decking and getting into the Christmas spirit with Ward/Simmons_ ”. So I hope you enjoy this and have a happy holiday! :D

Jemma was an exhausted bag of bones as she walked into a darkened, empty apartment.

At least, she thought it was empty before she saw the light from the hallway, cast a long pillar of golden glow on the wooden floor that stopped just inches from the foot of the dining table, as though it were some sort of highway that faded into distance. There, slumped over just beyond the proverbial horizon, was her roommate, with a half empty bottle of beer and her box of Christmas decorations.

Jemma tried to shuffle in as quietly as possible, but the clinking of her keys had him sitting up at attention, his face a bit dazed but his eyes were on full alert. “Hey.”

“Good evening. Or morning, rather.” Jemma mumbled as she switched the kitchen flood lights on. “Why are you sleeping out here? You do realize you have a bed in this apartment, yes?”

As he brought his hand up t scrub the sleep from his face, Grant winced before adjusting his eyes to the light. “I do but I was…” He paused for a good long while before continuing, “hoping I could help you put these Christmas decorations up before your party this Saturday.”

Jemma raised a finely sculpted eyebrow, “At nearly 2 in the morning?”

Grant blinked at her before he replied confidently, “Yes. Why? What were you planning on doing?”

“Uh, probably showering and then going to bed? Are you ill?” She surprised to see him taking any type of initiative when it came to this holiday season. Especially when it involved getting her wrangled up in his abrupt need to get into the holiday spirit.

In all honesty, she was surprised he would be talking to her at all seeing as the last time they spoke with each other five days ago, the conversation was primarily a lot of shouting from his end.

“Have you been waiting up for me?”

Grant shrugged. “If you knew I was going to be waiting would you've been here earlier?”

Her face had “probably not” written all over it. She’d been waiting for the results of a rush order test; the chance she would leave it for tomorrow was a very low possibility. So, she shrugged off her overcoat. “Well, I guess my shower will just have to wait.” She leaned over the large box and pulled out the smaller box of decorative lights and handed it to him. “You take care of the lights and I’ll take care of the ornaments and decorating the stuff that I can reach?”

“Works for me.” He said as he takes hold of the box, not commenting when their fingers brushed against each other.

They didn't have the room for a large Evergreen but instead Jemma had bought a small 2 foot tree made of dark wrought iron and made quick work of tying colorful ornaments on each wrung while Grant strung Christmas lights about the walls above the kitchen and in the living area. They worked in silence for a good ten minutes or so, both getting into the activity at hand, to the point where Jemma starts to softly hum “ _Silver Bells_ ”.

Just as she was about to start into the second verse of the song, Grant cleared his throat and spoke up. “So, how’s your friend?”

Immediately the humming stopped.

She shot him a pointed look. “Really? That’s what you’re leading with?”

Grant sighed. “Look…” He climbed down from the short step ladder Jemma kept in the kitchen (used to get the large pots from the high cabinet shelves) and turned towards the woman who was staring at him disapprovingly. “I know that we left things a little… messy-”

“Messy?  _Messy?_  Grant you came in here at some ungodly hour, woke me up to yell at me, which, subsequently woke up my friend who was sleeping on the couch 5 feet away from where you were shouting. You then went off on me, saying that I was naïve enough to let  _random_  bums sleep on our couch because I am too trusting! I can’t even  _begin_  to articulate how rude it was of you to insinuate that about me and my friend.” Jemma raged.

Grant hung his head in shame as he, ever vigilant, slowly brought his hands up to deflect any airborne objects Jemma might find suitable enough to fling at his head. “I know. I am well aware that I lack in common social skills. It’s a on-going enterprise.”

Jemma rolled her eyes but decided to pick her battles as he walked up to her and guilt shined down from his deep brown eyes. “I’m so sorry for what I said. There was no excuse for what I was implying and I will try everything I can to make this up to you.”

She looked at him skeptically and wrinkled her nose. “I’ll have you know that Lance thinks you’re my boyfriend.”

Grant’s brows furrow. “Who?”

“The  _bum_  who was sleeping on the couch.” Jemma snapped. “His name is Hunter. And just so you know he’s not my paramour; he had a falling out with his  _wife_  and was just asking for a place to stay while she calmed down. If you had given me a chance to explain, instead of just saying your piece and storming out of the apartment, then we wouldn't be in this mess in the first place.”

Embarrassment colors his features once again as he sighed once more and took the wreath from her hands and placed it on the coffee table. Grant took both of her cold hands and enveloped them in his. Jemma’s looked up and searched his eyes as he took a breath and nodded, “I know that now. I’m so very sorry. You don’t have to forgive me but I need you to know that I am truly embarrassed by my behavior. I can’t say that it’ll never happen again because, as you can tell, I have a bit of a temper, but I will do whatever it takes to get a hold of my emotions from now on.”

Jemma could hear the sincerity in his words and slowly crumbled beneath his gaze. “It’s fine.”

Grant let out a breath and smiled softly knowing that even though he was sure she was still upset, the worst of it was over.

“Grant?” Jemma mumbled.

“Hm?”

“I need to put the last ornament on the tree.”

It had been so long since he blushed, he could have sworn he was coming down with a fever as he proceeded to drop her hands. Immediately missing the feel of them in his, Grant had to shove his fingers into his pockets to resist the urge to reach forward.

As he moved away from her, he never once thought that maybe Jemma too missed the unexpected warmth that radiated off of him the moment he let her go as well. 


	10. Incident #10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The anticipated holiday party we all have been batting our breath for is finally here. I hope you all enjoy and please stay tuned for a bonus drabble at the end of the chapter! ;)

The party was in full swing when Grant finally showed up with an extra large bag of ice and the box of candy canes Jemma asked him to pick up at his emergency run to the grocery store.

Jemma spotted him from the kitchen and skipped over to him a festive metallic dress, the shiny bangles on that hung from her wrist clinked together like silver bells. "Did you get the candy canes?"

"Yeah, but they ran out of... the cherry flavored... ones... though..." Jemma was about the take the bag from him when she noticed his hesitation. She tilted her head in confusion before she realized the room was unusually quiet and wondered if her dressed was ripped.

Then she spotted it. 

The innocent mistletoe that hung from the light fixture right above the doorway into the apartment was not there when she and Grant were decorating a few days ago. Jemma shot daggers at Skye who was innocently playing with the gingerbread cookies, possibly reenacting a scene from Star Wars with Lance who was watching the scene mildly amused. Jemma will have to plot her revenge later because one of Grant's guests shouted for them to " _get on with it_ ".

The scientist looked up at Grant with worry clouding her features. "They're just being silly. You are not at all obligated to kiss me." She insisted.

Grant raised an eyebrow at that as he began to lean down towards her. "And be accused of being a spoiled sport? I don't think so." 

Jemma's heart thrummed in her chest wildly and was sure that the entire room could hear her breathlessly reply, "No one would accuse you of such nonsense."

Grant smirked. "I'd rather not take my chances." 

He had every intention of brushing his lips against hers quickly - to see if they were as soft as he remembered them to be since that night she had come home drunk - and then politely pull away.

Yet a magnetism, like nothing he had ever experienced before, took hold of his entire being and his second kiss was anything but chaste. 

He swallowed he gasp as she surged up onto her tip toes to meet his kiss with fervor. When she shyly sneaked her hands up the side of his neck, he pressed her further by tracing her lovely lips lightly with the tip of his tongue. A fire began to curl in the pits of her stomach making her groan softly against his lips.

When the whistling and the cat calls started, Jemma figured it would probably best to pull back. Her cheeks flamed when she watched Grant lean forward as though to follow her lips before he caught himself. 

"Finally. Jeez, any longer and that bag of ice would be a bag of water!" Skye teased. Their friends laughed and soon the festivities went back to normal. 

Jemma hid her face behind her hair as she grabbed the bag of peppermint candy canes from Grants hand and dashed into the kitchen. 

The rest of the evening, she could almost feel his eyes on her the entire time, his gaze fixed on her every movement. But each time she looked over at him, he would be deep in conversation with someone else or completely occupied with some host duties.

Not to mention how  _maddening_  his touches had been. It would seem as though he would find any excuse to brush his fingers against her hand or her arm or her shoulder. It was so completely unfair that he would have this effect on her and he appeared to be as cool as a cucumber at her presence. 

They were both shocked to find out that Lance Hunter (Jemma's friend) and Bobbi Morse's (Grant's friend) were married. They insisted that they would be on their best behavior for the party sake but no promises once they stepped outside the apartment. 

Jemma flushed a pretty shade of pink when Grant introduced her to his training officers, Clint Barton and his partner Natasha Romanov, one because both Clint and Natasha said that Grant spoke very highly of her work in the science field but mainly it was because Grant was rubbing toe curling circles into the exposed skin of her back as she tried to focus on what the female FBI agent was saying regarding a tricky case they just took on. It was torture on the purest level but he somehow knew when to pull back on his actions just as she was about to either smack him or jump him right there in the middle of the dining area. 

When the final guest waved good bye and they said their well wishes. Grant closed the door on the apartment and heaved a sigh. 

Jemma was picking up empty cups from around the living room and tossing them in the trash. She had taken her shoes off sometime after the fourth hour and was now padding around the kitchen barefoot while wrapping up the extra food with saran wrap. It was in that exact moment that she looked up at him and tilted her head in confusion. "Grant? Are you alright?"

Instead of answering, he made quick work of erasing the space between them and cups the sides of her face with his large hands before kissing her once again. She happily obliged and reached up to sink her fingers into his perfectly styled hair. She's blushing when he pulls back to gauge her reaction, and opens her mouth as if to speak, but he catches the words with his own mouth, inhaling them with her breath as he traces his tongue over the line where her upper lip turns inside her mouth. To his surprise, she giggles, her hand coming up to rest on his chest.

“That tickles,” she explains when he pulls back to look at her. Part of him wants to back away, sure he’s doing everything wrong. The rest of him – well,  _most_  of him – is fixated on the color of her eye changing and the dilation of her pupils.

“Sorry,” he says. “How can I make it up to you?” He can see her weighing things in her head, deciding on what she’s permitting.  _Anything_ , he wants to tell her.  _Everything_. But he forces himself to remain silent, waiting.

“Kiss me again,” she replied firmly. Her visage resolute beneath the twinkling Christmas lights that hung over head, she looked almost surprised at her own boldness. “More firmly, please. If…if you don’t mind.”

In answer, he captures her mouth the way he’d been dying to all night - hell, since the first time he watched her baking in the kitchen over 13 months ago. A small sound lodges in her throat and her head fell back, as she tilted up to his lips in a way that aroused a protective tenderness he didn't know was there and a painful desire in equal measure.

He pulled back just enough to tail hot, open mouth kisses against her jawbone and lower to her neck. "Tell if you don't want this, yeah?"

"I want this." 

"If you want to stop.  _Anytime_  at all, you just say so." Grant insisted even as his fingers creep for the zipper of her dress.

"Grant, I appreciate the gesture, but if you don't shut up right now and kiss me, so help me, I will take you out with the trash!"

Grant took the hint. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there it was. I know, some of you would have liked a more _mature_ conclude the chapter and that's fine. You can actually find that version over at my Tumblr. Please click on the link to be transported there for [ [Incident #10.5](http://sapphireglyphs.tumblr.com/post/106014784989/title-this-is-how-our-walls-came-down-rating-t) ]. Steamy times ahead there though, so please read at your own discretion. ;)
> 
> If you aren't heading over for some sexy time fun, then I bid you a happy holidays and may your new year be bright! :D


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